


Soul Haikyuu!!

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action, Based off of Simple-Symphonia's AU, F/F, Friendship/Love, M/M, Multi, Soul Eater AU, drabble based, fear not there is no smut here, just adorable dialogue and cuddles, mild violence, rated teen for mild violence and language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throw the Haikyuu characters into the DWMA and you get a whole lot of commotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Yaku Gets a Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Remmi here!
> 
> With [Simple-Symphonia's](http://simple-symphonia.tumblr.com/) permission, I expanded on the Soul Eater AU and decided to post a series of drabbles! For now they'll just be cute one shots about meisters/weapons and their relationships/journeys together.
> 
> I'll also be tracking the tag #soulhq on tumblr if you want me to see anything there! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Yaku wants is a Meister. Maybe a little bit of attention.

What exactly is the definition of popular? Having a lot of friends? Knowing a lot of people? Or being liked by many? All completely different definitions that fall under one term.

Well, whatever definition you wanted to use, Yaku didn't fit any of them. And he didn't want to. He saw the way people clung to Kuroo, or screamed for Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He even saw Kiyoko's overstuffed locker and the crowd of fans that would trail behind her in the halls.

 _Ew_. Yaku would rather be in solitude than be endlessly floundered by fans.

Although, that isn't entirely true. As a weapon, unless you're one of the prodigal anomalies, like Ushijima, Iwaizumi, or Bokuto, you desperately need a partner. While these three do have partners, they're not extremely reliant upon them.

Yaku sighs heavily, thrusting his hand into his pocket and jingling his keys. He's got one major problem that he has yet to fix. He's meister-less.

“Why not Kiyoko? She needs a weapon,” Kuroo hums.

“Nah, we don't match. I'm close range, she isn't,” Yaku shrugs. He never expressed a dire need for a partner, but not taking sufficient jobs was also beginning to wear on him and his bank account. It was about time he'd gone up a level, and here he was beside level one meister's with a much longer list of accomplishments. He needs a meister, but as a not-so-flashy weapon, it's harder to snag someone.

Kuroo has had Kenma from the beginning, same goes for Iwaizumi and Oikawa. Bokuto found himself a great meister rather quickly, and everybody else has been able to find one within a year, which is the average.

So why was it that Yaku couldn't find one? Was he not strong enough for their tastes?

Maybe he wasn't inviting?

“You're fine to me,” Kenma mutters, eyes peering up from his game for a moment. Compliments from Kenma weren't eloquent, but they were genuine.

Yaku exhales heavily, spinning the dial around to the respective numbers. He reaches his hand in for his binder on transformations, and instead latches onto a small piece of paper. It's no formal envelope decorated with hearts and glitter—like the ones Kiyoko always gets—but it's definitely a letter. “For me?” Yaku whispers, eyes widening at the folded parchment between his fingers. He never thought he'd see the day when a confession letter ended up in his locker. He even checked to see if it was addressed wrong.

_To: Yaku Morisuke_

Nope, that's him alright.

Giddily he peels the letter open. What person was too shy to approach him?

He reads the letter about three times over before his facial expression catches up to his disappointment.

_Be my partner!_

_-Lev_

“You're...kidding me,” he growls beneath his breath. First off, who the hell is Lev? Second, what kind of letter is this supposed to be? Compared to the letters Kuroo used to read, this is pathetic. He slam dunks the letter into the nearest trash can, cursing at whatever force in the world that enjoyed torturing him.

“Yaku-san!”

He jumps, literally a couple inches off of the ground. Did they see him chuck that letter?

“Y-yeah!” he chirps, whipping around to face whoever called his name. His eyes widen at the sight of this giant towering over him. He had to be at least six feet tall, something like six-four, with his narrowed eyes and intimidating stare. _Who is this guy...?_

“You're a lot shorter up close,” the teen blurts.

Yaku reflexively drives his foot into the boy's shin. “Shut up! Whaddaya want from me?!”

The silver haired teen buckles with an "ouch!" attached to it, but quickly brushes it off and splits a grin across his face as he holds out an application. Yaku's eyes land on the paper in his hands. He should have been elated that he just received an offer. He should have just accepted it with a smile and a 'thank you'.

But that's not in Yaku's nature.

“You're out of your mind. Why should I work with you?” He seethes, though after the words leave his mouth, he's nervous as to how Lev might react. Lev is quiet for a moment, his narrowed eyes unblinking, large hands still around the flimsy papers.

“Why not?”

It's the most basic answer he could have come back with, so basic it almost sounds sarcastic.

“That's a shitty answer,” Yaku grumbles, surely convinced that this kid might be out of his mind.

“Eh?!” Lev's jaw drops, his hands crinkling around the edges of the application. “But Yaku-san is cool! Why wouldn't I be paired with you?”

 _Cool?_   That word wasn't used too often alongside his name. “Flattery doesn't work on me, and that doesn't answer my question. Why should I pick _you?_ ” Yaku stands strong, but it's not like he wouldn't mind being called cool again.

A grin splits across Lev's face as he juts his thumb into his chest and sucks in a large breath. “I”ll be the ultimate meister! And I'm gonna need an ultimate weapon by my side! So how about it?”

If there was anything Yaku could commend this kid on, it was his pride. He nearly chokes on his laughter.

“That's funny?” Lev asks.

“That's...! You, the ultimate meister? Do you even know who your competition is?” Lev runs through the list. Ushijima, the number one. Oikawa, the number two. Kiyoko, the number three. Even Akaashi and the newly discovered genius Kageyama. Of course he couldn't forget about Asahi and Sugawara either.

So many reliable, talented and superior meisters that Lev would have to compete against. Did he know this?

“Oh, I know. But I think you and I would go straight to the top!”

Yaku would have made another sarcastic comment, if he had felt even the slightest of ingenuity in this newbie's words. But he didn't sense that at all. Lev was serious, almost frighteningly so. Yaku can't tell if he's extremely talented or just extremely simple minded. He rubs his sleeve across his nose, avoiding eye contact that would warrant his blush to deepen any further than it already was.

Lev stands unmoving, waiting for Yaku to reply.

“Show me what you can do.”

“Really—?!”

“I didn't say yes! I wanna see if you're worth my time,” Yaku retorts, “there's an obstacle course on the other side of campus. Meet me there tomorrow at noon,” he orders, “I'll be your weapon for the course.”

“And if I pass?”

“ _If_ you pass, I'll consider it.”

A twinkle of hope mixed with an unwavering determination flashes through's Lev's eyes and tugs at his lips again. “Okay,” he smiles, tucking the application under his chin like a keepsake. In all of five seconds this giant went from an intimidating meister to a kindergartener.

Yaku was starting to have doubts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“He's tall,” Kenma mumbles over his game, eyes running a first impression scan over Lev. He watches him lean to his left and stretch, eyes twinkling at the course prepared ahead for him.

“You really gonna do this? Do your wavelengths even match?” Kuroo asks Yaku, also giving a once over to the tall teen.

“Dunno. We'll find out,” Yaku answers, though doubtfully. He moves over to Lev and asks, “you ready?”

“Am I ever! Okay, weapon mode!” Lev juts his hand out expectantly. Behind Yaku, Kuroo struggles to contain his laughter.

Yaku sighs heavily, “baka, do you even know what weapon form I take?”

“A dagger,” Lev hits the nail on the head. It turns Yaku's cheeks a deep crimson. This guy actually took the time to research him?

“I'm not just a dagger, I turn into a shuriken, too, got it?” Yaku points at him, internally wondering if Lev absorbed that information or if it flew in one ear and out the other.

“Okay, got it. A dagger and a shuriken,” Lev nods.

Yaku sideglances the course, feeling a cold sweat form on the back of his neck. Maybe he shouldn't do this, after all? No, he promised, sort of.He'd look lame, and he has the sneaking suspicion that this kid will either cry or turn into a raging giant, both things he'd prefer to avoid.

“Okay, let's go,” Yaku steps back. He pulls his hands from his pockets and begins his transformation, light and air swirling about as he vaporizes into a flurry of light particles before reforming in Lev's hand as a dagger.

“Woah, Yaku-san you're transformation is so cool!”

“Shuddup...” Yaku growls, thankful no one can see his face. He would have been more flustered if he wasn't surprised at how easy it was for Lev to hold him. In fact, it almost felt natural.

“Oi, Haiba,” Yaku says, watching Lev twirl him around between his hands. “Amazing! This is amazing! I'm wielding Yaku-san for real!”

“Hey! Pay attention!”

“Sorry,” Lev murmurs, trying to suppress his grin. “How broad is your wavelength?”

“Eh? Well...” Lev frowns in thought for a few moments. “I've been able to match with everyone in the training classes so far.”

Kuroo purses his lips in surprise. He peeks down at Kenma, nudging him to look up from his game. “Did you hear that? This kid has more to him than I thought.”

“But I always overdid it and shocked them,” Lev laughs, and suddenly the amazement has vanished.

“If you shock me with your wavelength I'll dice you into bits,” Yaku warns him.

“I'm not sure I can. I'm giving you everything I've got!”

“Nani?! Why would you do that?!”

“If my weapon can't handle all of me from the start, there's no point,” Lev replies, twirling Yaku effortlessly, “Is there?”

Kuroo smirks at the response, dropping his hand atop Kenma's head. “A rough description, but he's got the general idea. Maybe you should watch this, Kenma.”

“Mh,” Kenma grunts, “he's not that bright.”

Yaku gives a gentle stretch before signaling Lev that he's ready. With a wave from Lev, Kuroo hits the switch that brings the obstacle course to life. The walls begin to split and separate, blocks of concrete and stucco moving about. Poles begin to jut from the sides of these blocks, before three platforms are aligned at the top.

“The objective is to get past all three stages. Enemies will materialize on each platform you reach,” Kuroo explains. It's a challenge to get to the platforms, and an even bigger challenge to surpass them.

Yaku feels a glitch in Lev's wavelength, and he peeks up at him. “If you're scared, we don't have to do this.”

“Scared? No way, let's go!” Lev springs off the ground with a powerful leap and darts head first into the course.

“Oi, Haiba! Don't just! _Look out!_ ” Yaku screeches as part of the wall juts out at a fast pace.

“Don't think light of me, Yaku-san!” Lev shouts, he circles backwards and drops under the block, snatching the bar underneath it and flipping himself upright onto a platform midway off the ground. He lands with a loud thud, before bringing himself upright to face the holograms that are appearing.

“Round one is pretty simple,” Yaku says, but Lev's already confirmed that he knows it. “Shuriken mode, Yaku-san!” Yaku changes instantly, though he made a remark underneath his breath about being ordered around. Lev whips him from his finger tips with pure arm strength. Yaku hurls himself through four enemies before snapping back into Lev's hand.

“Dagger mode!” Lev calls, and takes out the last two enemies before he heads for the next platform.

“Don't just jump, baka!” Yaku growls. He's growing irritated by Lev's reckless maneuvers through this course. “Yaku-san, trust me a bit more,” Lev replies. Yaku would have if it weren't fearing for his life. Lev moved at blinding speed across these thin metal bars.

Sure enough, one of them slips out from underneath Lev's foot, and Yaku sucks in air that's too scared to turn into a scream. HE doesn't have a massive fear of heights, but forty feet off the ground is quite a drop.

Lev whips Yaku between his teeth and thrusts his arms out, catching the next bar on his way down. He swings forward and launches his large frame over the rest, landing on platform two.

“See? I'm not useless, Yaku-san!”

“Don't bite me,” Yaku warns, “this next round isn't as easy.”

Lev's eyes sharpen at the enemies who appear. They're larger in number and in size.

“Tch, you scared now?” Yaku asks, thinking with Lev's wavering wavelength that he'll back out.

Instead of smiling, Lev's face grows rather serious. “Not even,” he mutters, and Yaku feels a pulsating rhythm beat through Lev's wavelength. It fills him with a sudden determination, and his lips squirm and fight against the smile bracing against his teeth. This kid is extremely unusual, but Yaku finds it amusing.

“Left! Haiba!”

“Roger!” Lev drives the tip of Yaku's blade into the hologram. With a shatter of a million light dusted pixels, the last enemy disintegrates into thin air. Lev pulls out of his feral, hunched position and takes a moment to catch his breath.

“You good to continue?” Yaku asks. Lev draws the back of his hand across his brow, studying Yaku's intricately patterned hilt. “You're really pretty in weapon form, you know?”

“U-uruse! Get moving!” Yaku snaps, though his entire face is beet red. He can't be more relieved that he's in weapon form.

“Yaku-san, your wavelength is so erratic. Could you be embarrassed?”

“I will kick your ass off this platform you...!” Yaku snarls, giving Lev a chuckle.

Yaku won't ever admit it, but Lev's the first person to have ever said something genuinely sweet about his weapon form. It wasn't always like that. Being Yaku wasn't some flashy scythe or an intense staff, he always felt inferior to the other weapons out there.

“Yaku-san?” Lev asks, pulling Yaku out of his memory banks. “There's only one enemy,” Lev murmur, surprised by the expected barrage that never came.

“It's not always large numbers that do the trick y'know. This guy isn't meant for distance, Haiba.”

Lev is quiet, keeping his distance from the enemy and his grip on Yaku firm. “Yaku-san...do you trust me enough to do a soul resonance?”

Yaku feels Lev's wavelength jitter almost anxiously. The only thing that would come out of a failed resonance was a bruise or two and some pride damage, maybe some fatigue. Only, to do a soul resonance and have it work, you had to be trusting of your partner, not someone you'd become a weapon for in all of a few minutes.

“Alright, we'll try it. You give it your all, right?”

“This determines if you'll be mine or not,” Lev flashes a cheeky grin down to the dagger. “Oi! I ain't your damn boyfriend, say it properly!”

Lev just readjusts his grip on the blade, and it makes Yaku flinch, feeling a sudden increase in raw power.Yaku adjusts almost effortlessly to channel his wavelength back and forth across Lev's, feeling the resonance building. It's not loud like Yaku thought it would be, or nearly as erratic. Despite the powerful wind kicking up around them, and the electricity sparking in their field of power, the sound is melodic, almost mesmerizing, as it subtly grows in emphasis like an orchesta would.

Yaku feels his body light on fire, and a slight panic runs through him.

“Don't be nervous!” Lev shouts, “we're fine, Yaku-san!”

Yaku quickly dismisses his insecurity. The pulsing rhythm of their synchronized wavelengths spears through his chest and sends an anxious, powerful shout skyward.

“This quickly?” Kuroo's jaw drops, eyes wide at the sight of a transformed Yaku between Lev's palms.

“Wow, that is amazing,” Kenma agrees, having put his game away to watch the scene above them.

“Yaku-san! Take a look, you're amazing!” Lev hollers. Yaku's grown, almost triple in size, a large curved blade now projecting from the hilt, the shiny alloy gleaming against the fluorescent lights of the training room.

Lev whips him around effortlessly between large hands, before dashing forward and slicing straight through the enemy in one shot. Yaku feels a cheer burst past his lips that rings through the air simultaneously with Lev. The giant teen leaps back to the ground to end the training course, holding Yaku up in complete admiration.

Kuroo gestures up to the score boared above their heads. “Check it out, you guys scored just under Bokuto.”

Yaku jumps out of his weapon form and beams up at the board. Sure enough, his name sits just underneath Akaashi and Bokuto in deep yellow lights. He bites his cheek to keep from grinning.

“So, how was he?” Kuroo asks, eyeing Lev as the tall teen leans over Kenma's shoulder, peeking at his game that he's continued.

“He's brash, and reckless, and he has no control over his wavelength,” Yaku answers flatly. Lev looks up over Kenma's shoulder worriedly, but Kenma's only got a small smile on as he mashes his directional pad.

“He's not completely useless, though.”

Lev whips around Kenma and jumps right in front of Yaku. “You mean you'll do it?! You'll be mine?!”

“Baka, stop saying that,” Yaku hisses, his cheeks red as he holds out an application, filled in every area needed. “I'll turn it in this afternoon,” Yaku grumbles. He feels like he's just accepted a confession more than a partner offer. And with Lev's eyes locked onto his face, he can't help but squirm uncomfortably beneath his jacket.

“Quit staring at me already.”

“Oh, sorry, you're just cute when you're embarrassed,” Lev replies. Flustered, Yaku aims to kick him, sending a nasty glare to Kuroo whose giving him a sinister smile in the background.

“I'll be the best meister you could ever hope for, Yaku-san!”

“Feh, fat chance of that one, but... let's work hard, Lev.”

Lev visibly lights up at the sound of his first name being called. “Yaku-san!” He cheers, but Yaku's already spun on his heel and makes a break for the door. “Shut up! Don't hug me! I'll rip this paper up!” Yaku shouts as Lev chases him back into the hallway.

“You think they'll work out, Kenma?” Kuroo asks, resting his chin atop Kenma's head again.

“Yeah,” Kenma replies, and he pauses to glance at the doorway. “Yaku-san couldn't stop smiling.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay that's a wrap for the first one! Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Also, you can reach me on my [Tumblr](http://fukuchan.co.vu) Tumblr or my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/manamiin_)!
> 
> Next time: Kiyoko and Yachi!


	2. In Which Kiyoko Needs A Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoko is known for her beauty and her talent, but she can't seem to find a weapon partner. She doesn't want to choose amongst her crowd of lemmings, but maybe she's being too picky?

Pairing up meister to weapon wasn't exactly an easy process. Every person was on their own when it came to finding themselves a partner at DWMA. For some people it was extremely easy to pick up a partner and begin practicing. For others, it was rather difficult.

  


Kiyoko was somewhere in the middle.

  


Sure, she could pick from the litter of drooling boys that would follow her through the hallways and kiss at her feet for even a chance to be held in her hands. She could walk up to any one of them this instant and say “I pick you” and they'd rollover and do any trick she wanted.

  


But she wasn't looking for a pet.

  


She sighs heavily, adjusting her specs on the bridge of her nose and hitching her notebook to her chest. Today she'll probably find her locker full of notes begging for her to pair up with one of them. The stories were getting crazieras to why she needed to pick _them_ as her weapon; some of the stories actually made her laugh they were so incredible.

 

“Shimizu, you alright?”

  


She lifts her head from the cobblestone to see Daichi standing about two feet in front of her. “Oh, Sawamura-kun. Aren't you with Sugawara-kun?”

 

“He's trying to help Asahi pick a job. I'm going to help Hinata with weapon transformations. Where are you headed to?”

 

“I'm not really sure. Maybe the library, I could study there...” The reply trails off as she emptily looks from him to the window. She doesn't mean to do this, but she often spaces out lately on the account that she's constantly thinking about what it would be like to get her hands on an ideal partner and finally start taking some serious soul collecting jobs. Daichi gives a sympathetic smile; he knows she's not doing this on purpose.

  


“Shimizu, you're not being too picky,” Daichi pulls the thought right from her mind.

  


Her cheeks flush with surprise, her jaw falling open as she tries to come up with some form of lie that would coverup her embarrassment. To everyone else it isn't that big of a deal, but to her it's the biggest deal she's yet to face. Daichi only laughs as she struggles to form a coherent sentence.

  


“Really, it's okay. It's good that you're not choosing a weapon _just because,_ ” he gestures into the air, although it might have been directed at the pathway flooded with students, some of which did just pick a partner because of the stigma on how it looks lame not to have one.

  


“Sawamura-kun... It's been two years. You found your meister in six months. Azumane-kun found his weapons after a year. Nobody...nobody stays alone for this long,” she presses her notebook tighter against her chest, her lungs depressing with the heavy thought that every body in her exact age group is already paired up.

  


“You're one of the top ranked meisters, you know?”

  


“That's based off of just test results. My wavelength isn't broad enough to just _choose_ someone,” Kiyoko complains, tucking her hair behind her ear. Although the attempt at making her feel better was nice, the cold hard truth didn't allow her to feel confident about her meister position. Sure, everybody saw her as a powerful and beautiful meister, but none of them really knew what she was like, and that bothered her to no extent. She'd had a lot of peers attempt to match her up with many available weapons, but either they turned into a golden retriever at her feet, or they didn't sync well with their wavelengths. One candidate, Yaku Morisuke, might have been the closest she came to possibly gaining a weapon, but their wavelengths didn't mesh well, and his weapon wasn't her style.

  


Daichi places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, giving it a gentle squeeze to show that he means it. “You'll find someone soon. Maybe talk to Lord Death about it, if it's really on your mind that much?”

  


“Hmn...” Kiyoko mulls it over.

  


“Or you could ask Oikawa.”

  


She sends him a look of distaste. She doesn't necessarily dislike Oikawa, but his tendency to try and charm her every time he sees her drives her mad. Kiyoko will give him some credit though, he's way too proud of himself to become a lemming like the rest of her admirers. He mostly messes with her because he can, and something about her dismissal being “adorably irresistible”. That being said, talking to Oikawa doesn't sound like such a bad idea. That outgoing brunet knows quite a lot of people, and his soul perception ability is strong enough to match wavelengths pretty accurately.

  


Some would call him the _matchmaker_. A cheesy term, but fitting for someone whose extremely good at what he does. That coupled with the fact that he is one of three in their age group that wields a death scythe. A true death scythe.

  


“Maybe,” Kiyoko mumbles, and shrugs her shoulders. “You should get going.”

  


“I should. But stop by our place later! Suga's making dinner!”

  


“Of course he is,” Kiyoko teases lightly, and it makes every bit of content on Daichi's face slide into an insulted frown. “Shimizu, I cook too you know,” he mutters quietly between pursed lips like a pouting child. Kiyoko flashes him one of her brilliant but rare smiles, before bidding goodbye and treading down the hallway. She opts to head for her locker and probably go home for the day. Maybe, _just maybe_ she'll talk to Oikawa tomorrow. Daichi heads to see Hinata, but he's heavily considering taking Suga's place as chef tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

“Eh? You really haven't picked up a partner?” Iwaizumi looks sideways at Kiyoko, a hand curled around the back of his neck. He watches Kiyoko shuffle her feet and hunch her shoulders, her cheeks reddening at the embarrassment. “I uhm...” she curses herself for always losing her composure about this topic.

  


“No, I mean... it's hard to sift through all that dead weight,” Iwaizumi backtracks when he senses sensitivity, and he sends a warning glare to a couple of 'Team Kiyoko' puppies hovering near the doorway entrance. “Sorry Shimizu, but Oikawa won't be back in town for another week. Something about his nephew...but why don't you try going to a training session? Maybe you'll match up with someone there.”

  


“That's alright, thanks though, Iwaizumi-kun,” Kiyoko flashes him a feeble smile, her shoulders hunching with the 'well you tried' gesture. Her disappointment has elevated, but it isn't Iwaizumi's fault, she just can't help but feel low about all of this.

  


“Sure,” Iwaizumi mumbles, eyes following Kiyoko as she leaves the room. He'll never tell it to a soul, but talking to her always makes him kind of nervous. He considers not even telling Oikawa that she _chose_ to want to talk to him—given that she finds a weapon—he'd brag about it for a week.

  


Kiyoko moves through the hallway to her locker again, a heavy sigh deflating her lungs and echoing down the semi-empty hallway. Maybe she should try looking at another campus. Or she could work on ways to broaden her wavelength adaptability. That could work, too. Anything would work if she could just find a partner already.

  


“Eek! Oh! Is this your locker?!”

  


Kiyoko pauses, stopping just shy of her metal stowaway. Before her is a tiny blonde, her eyes wide and frantic as she scrambles to pick up more of Kiyoko's confession and offer notes. Her brow raises slightly, more out of curiosity on how that many had gotten to the ground.

  


“U-uhm! I'm not trying to steal them! They just sort of started falling out! A-and I figured I should put them back, _I'm sorry!_ ” The girl juts out her hands full of letters and bows deep into an apology, her whole body turned a light pink as her arms shake uncontrollably.

  


Kiyoko is silent for a moment or two before a roll of laughter bursts from her lips. This girl is way too skittish, and it's totally adorable. “That's alright, it happens occasionally. Thank you for picking them up, though,” Kiyoko says, taking the stack of envelopes from the girl's hand. She walks them promptly to the nearest trash can and drops them in, dusting her hands off without the slightest of guilt. Some of those are probably repeats anyway.

  


“Y-you're just throwing them away?” The girl looks both mortified and amazed that someone could be so heartless and brave. If it were her, she would have felt guilty enough to answer every single one.

  


“I don't want to partner with someone who can't face me directly,” Kiyoko replies, looking back at the girl. “You look like a new face.”

  


“Y-Yes! I am! Yachi Hitoka! I just transferred in last week!”

  


“Oh? Nice to meet you, I'm Shimizu Kiyoko. Meister or weapon?”

“I-I'm a weapon...” the girl's cheeks burn, her eyes running over every detail of the famous queen meister that everyone is so fond of. She didn't think she'd run into someone so popular and powerful in her first month, let alone her first week. “A weapon,” Kiyoko's eyes flash with sudden interest. “Do you have a partner?”

  


“N-No, I'm uhm...I'm still new to transforming, I mean... I uhm... er...” Hitoka mumbles, fiddling with her fingers as she scrambles for words. It's a sensitive situation. But the shy demeanor and loss of words tied with a cute, flustered expression makes Kiyoko's heart leap. This is it. This is her silver lining, her breakthrough. Hope vibrates beneath her skin and anxiety twiddles between her fingertips.

 

“Will you...will you try working with me?” Kiyoko asks, and Hitoka's whole body goes rigid. She didn't expect to get any offers from Meister's so soon. Most people didn't get offers until about three months in, and here she was getting an offer from a well known, well rounded Meister.

  


“Y-yes! If you'll have me, yes!” Yachi nods, eyes wide, a crooked smile stretched on her face.

  


Kiyoko looks at her locker, reaching in to grab her gloves and shutting the door. “Okay, follow me.”

  


Hitoka silently tups behind Kiyoko through the hallways until they reach an open field just outside one of the classrooms. “Uhm...I'm still not that good at it--”

  


“That's alright, just show me what you can do,” Kiyoko sends her a reassuring smile, one of those rare ones that not many people got to see, but everyone fell in love with. Hitoka feels an arrow pierce her chest. Maybe it was Cupid's. The thought stuck in her mind—how could she possibly have run into the most beautiful girl in the academy in her first week?!

  


Hitoka straightens up in front of Kiyoko, taking a breath and shaking her hands loose at her sides. “Just transform and land right here,” Kiyoko holds her hand out.

  


“Uhm...my weapon...”

  


“Hm?”

  


Hitoka looks at her. “I'm not a close range weapon.”

  


“Good, I'm not a close range fighter,” Kiyoko grins again. This girl is pleasing her more by the second. Hope is overflowing in her blood stream, her fingers twitching to discover just exactly what weapon this girl is.

  


“Okay, here I go,” Hitoka breathes again, shutting her eyes and focusing on her transformation. She's done this perfectly a few times before. But she's also flopped and only transformed an arm, or a leg.

  


Kiyoko watches the dust kick up around her, the wind rippling through her hair in a skyward motion as light begins to emit from Yachi's body. She dissipates into a ball of energy before leaping through the air and beginning to reform in Kiyoko's hand.

  


Kiyoko's jaw drops at the transformation of Yachi into her weapon form.

  


“Uwah...! I did it! Sh-Shimizu-san, I did it!”

  


“Un... you did,” Kiyoko nods, bringing the weapon closer for examination. Yachi has transformed into a stunning long bow, the tips of the bow adorned with small blades that melt into an intricately carved design set atop her metal alloy. Her weapon form is breathtaking. Kiyoko notices the lack of a quill having appeared on her shoulder. She focuses her wavelength and pulls taught on the bowstring, watching an arrow materialize between her fingers.

  


“Wow, that's how it works,” Yachi comments, and Kiyoko blinks at the weapon in her hands in surprise. “You didn't know how this worked?”

  


“I've never had anyone hold me before. Well...that's not true. I've had people hold me, but they've never shot at anything. So that means my crossbow form must work the same way.”

  


“You have a crossbow form, too?”

  


“Yeah! It's really draining on my body to change into it though, I'm still getting used to this.”

  


Kiyoko smoothes her free hand along the curve of the bow, before holding Yachi out as a sign that she can return to her human form. The blonde switches back, shaking her short hair back into place and dusting off her uniform. She peeks up at Kiyoko nervously, wondering whether or not she's going to say something nice or brush her off as though they hadn't just had a bonding moment as a weapon and meister duo.

  


“Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko begins, and Yachi's skin breaks out into a flustered carmine. “Hmm?!”

  


“Would you...be my weapon?”

  


“You mean... permanently? Officially? Like I'd fill out an application?”

  


“Yes, permanently,” Kiyoko grins, “officially. Application required.”

  


“ _ABSOLUTELY!_ ” Yachi cheers, and Kiyoko reaches forward and grabs her small hands into her own. “Thank you, Hitoka-chan!”

  


“Erp...uhm...yes...” Hitoka flushes a deep red again, her heart thudding thunderously beneath her chest. Kiyoko's hands on hers and her face mere inches away has Yachi on a beauty overload, but she can practically feel the happiness radiating through Kiyoko on her skin. From the rumors about this supposed queen, she doesn't have a wide spread range of emotions, because only special people get to see them.

  


Hitoka feels pretty darn special having seen her new found Meister smile twice in one day.

  


“I'll turn in an application tomorrow morning, first thing!” Hitoka nods, and Kiyoko agrees, “same. Let's do our best together, right?”

  


And that's just what Hitoka did. Bright and early the next morning she scrambled into the DWMA and practically shoved her weapon application into Lord Death's face, and when it was approved she scurried through the hallways to find Kiyoko and share the great news. After that, Kiyoko suggested they'd work on a training regiment, and even go shopping for Hitoka to choose some better battle clothes.

  


Kiyoko had done it, she'd finally found herself a weapon. A cute one, too. Kiyoko had a good feeling that she would never have to ever worry about finding another weapon again.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's chapter 2 everyone! I love the Kiyoyachi dynamic ^-^. Another huge thanks to Simple-Symphonia for letting me use the idea! I'm having so much fun with it!
> 
>  
> 
> Reach me on my tumblr [Tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/manamiin_)!
> 
> Next Week: Bokuto & Akaashi


	3. In Which Bokuto Is Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto has just about had it with Akaashi ignoring him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the spacing changes between chapters. I wanted to test out if I liked more space or less space between the paragraphs! They'll be consistent from now on though!

“Akaashi,” Bokuto sings, draping himself lazily over his Meister, a slight pout shaped on his lips when his Meister doesn't peel his nose from his book. Bokuto hates being ignored above all things, and he knows that Akaashi is doing this on purpose. “Akaashi!” he whines again, urging a response from the black haired teen. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“I wanna get lunch, come with me,” he demands.

“I can't today, I'm doing an extra course on Soul Detection,” Akaashi closes his book and taps the tip of the spine onto Bokuto's forehead. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“No,” Bokuto immediately rejects his counter offer.

“Why not eat with Kuroo-san?”

“He's on a job with Kenma, I told you that,” Bokuto replies curtly, golden eyes narrowed to the right in a sulking manner. Akaashi sighs softly, a small smile tugging at his lips that he conceals with his hand. Though it's troublesome to deal with a fussy Bokuto, he can't deny how adorable his pout can be. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience, forgive me,” Akaashi adds.

Bokuto mumbles something unintelligible beneath his breath as he lifts off of Akaashi's shoulders. He side glances his Meister in hopes that he had heard him, but when Akaashi doesn't respond and continues to pack his backpack, it irks the older teen even more. “Oi!”

“What? I'm sorry, did you say something?”

“Aren't you tired of walking home every day? You live so far from school,” Bokuto says, and adds quietly, “it'd just be easier to come to my place.”

“I already have a place to live, remember?” Akaashi gently reminds him, and when he sees Bokuto's fist clench, he adds, “you're angry.”

“No, I'm not. You're just so dense,” the older teen grumbles, pushing away from the desk roughly and moving back towards the doorway. “I don't wanna be your weapon. I won't do anymore jobs with you.”

Akaashi winces at the door slamming on Bokuto's way out. He sighs upward towards the ceiling with fatigue. Bokuto's dejected mode was hard to come back from if it was serious enough. The question was, why was he so upset? Normally canceling lunch wasn't detrimental to his mood, he'd go grab another person and be fine inside of an hour.

The Meister zips his backpack closed and throws it across his shoulder, heading to his next class. Taking all of these extra classes has him spending a lot more mental energy than he thought he would have to give. He shakes the exhaustion from his eyelids and trudges down the hallway.

Alright, so bailing on Bokuto for lunch for the fourth time this week would probably irritate the teen more than usual. But that couldn't possibly be the only reason. Was it the living situation?

Bokuto had only mentioned that he and Akaashi should live together a few times, and it was always a fleeting conversation during their training or if one of them spent the night. He exhales stress from his lungs in an attempt to relax and force himself to stay awake for his next two hour lecture. He'll figure this out once he's done with classes and has had a good sleep.

 

* * *

 

“You really ticked him off,” Iwaizumi mumbles, watching Bokuto scowl at Akaashi from across the room. He looks away anytime Akaashi meets his eyes, pretending as though he's actually focusing on the lecture about anatomy. “Akaashi, what did you do?” Oikawa asks, leaning around Iwaizumi with big, curious eyes.

“I'm...not exactly sure yet,” Akaashi answers, scribbling notes onto his page. Iwaizumi will never cease to be amazed by Akaashi's ability to perfectly take notes and hold a conversation simultaneously. “He'll come around,” Akaashi chews on his lower lip, and Oikawa squints at him. “You sure sound confident about that.”

“My lips are chapped,” Akaashi runs his index finger across the cracks and splits of dry skin that he's been gnawing at all day. He sighs, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye and clicking his pen closed. Class is over, and he has every intention of going home and sleeping the day away.

Oikawa slides his eyes across the room at Bokuto, but he's already disappeared. “Those extra classes...you sure you need them?” Iwaizumi asks, and Akaashi shrugs his shoulders in response, but not as if to say he didn't know or care. He was just beginning to doubt his personal satisfaction after having taken them. “Bokuto-san is a strong weapon with a very large soul,” he says, and the truth of the statement is so concrete that even Oikawa agrees without batting an eye.

Bokuto was a well respected, strongly desired weapon amongst the academy. His weapon was an intricately designed staff with a wind element, that amplified his Meister's wavelength to shift the wind around them in their favor. Many Meister's wanted to use him, _extremely_ few Meister's could handle him. Stumbling upon Akaashi was a blessing.

“I don't want to become useless to him,” Akaashi says it, and a rueful look flashes over his face before he replaces it with his blank canvas once more. Just because he was one of the few that could wield Bokuto, doesn't mean he was the only one. Iwaizumi lifts off of his hand rest and folds his notebook underneath his arm. “I don't think there's anybody else in this world that could handle that guy besides you.”

“Iwa-chan's right, that guy is even too much for me to handle. And that's saying something!”

Iwaizumi and Akaashi both send him a pointed look, but in all reality, he's not wrong. Oikawa's wavelength is one that everyone talks about, because he could easily have any weapon he wanted to.

Granted, Oikawa is really saying he couldn't handle Bokuto's exuberant personality and mood swings, especially since Oikawa was rather pretentious himself. But Bokuto did prove to be a challenge for Oikawa to deal with.

“Anyway, maybe you should talk to him about it. He has an ego, and a temper, but I'm sure he'd listen to you,” Iwaizumi offers, knocking Oikawa in the gut when the brunet tries to slide his arms around him.

“Thank you, maybe I will try that,” Akaashi muses, stacking his things into his bag. “Bye bye, Akaashi!” Oikawa waves, “let's do a job sometime, ne?”

“If you'll have us.”

“Of course!”

Akaashi watches the two exit the room, Iwaizumi bopping his Meister over the head for something or other. He has to admire their partnership. The trust is so apparent between them, Akaashi can't sense even the slightest doubt.

Maybe that's his problem, self doubt?

 

* * *

 

Bokuto marches through the hallway, taking the tiles in large, hurried strides. Where he's going, he has no idea. But he can't help but walk in large, rushed, angry steps.

“Yo, Brokuto! You in a hurry?”

Bokuto immediately slows down at the sound of his one and only given nickname. He turns his head to find Kuroo practically jogging to catch up to him, and the idea that he'd been moving so fast causes his bitter pout to contort into a half-assed smile. The result isn't satisfying. “Brokuroo,” he replies.

Kuroo wrinkles his nose at Bokuto's marred expression. “You in a fight with Akaashi again?”

“I don't wanna think about it,” Bokuto answers curtly, shoving his hands into his pockets and glowering at the ground.

Kuroo stays silent. He knows how this works, and if he says anything now to change the subject he'll hear about it later. Instead, he does a mental countdown. _3...2...1..._

“He's so dense! He never pays any attention to me! He doesn't know how to take a damn hint! He doesn't care about _his_ weapon! He's the worst Meister! I'm leaving him!”

Kuroo frowns, watching Bokuto's chest heave from his explosion of anger. “Are you partners or is there something you need to tell me?” Bokuto sends him a warning glare—which he rarely does—and Kuroo puts his hands up in a light apology. Wrong time to provoke, he guesses. “Okay look, have you told him straight out about any of this?”

Knowing Bokuto's tendencies about having a hard time explaining his feelings to his Meister, he already knows the answer.

Bokuto's shoulders sink along with his head. He's never had a real need to say anything since Akaashi's intuition has always solved the problem for him. One look was enough for Akaashi to analyze every emotion and move about accordingly.

Kuroo pats Bokuto on his back with a quiet laugh, “so this  _is_ your fault.”

“No it isn't! Look...! You're always with Kenma, right?”

“Not really. Well...” Kuroo ponders the thought for a few moments. He is with Kenma quite a bit, truth be told. “Not every second?”

“And you live with him?” Bokuto asks.

“Oh, so you're upset he doesn't live with you?”

Bokuto frowns as they reach the outside of the school, trekking along the cobblestone path to the massive staircase. “We're not together that much. He's constantly busy, any money we get from jobs is stretched thin between two apartments. Plus he's  _always_ in extra classes!”

“Bro,” Kuroo grips his shoulder and stops him from descending the staircase. “He's your partner, right? Just talk to him about it. You may not have all the facts y'know. Akaashi isn't the type to flake on you without reason, and you know that better than any of us.”

Bokuto silently steams. He knows he's not wrong. He can't be.

“Come on, let's get your mind off of this. Come over, yeah?”

“Uh...yeah! Yeah sure!” Bokuto follows Kuroo down the staircase. He'll figure all of this out later.

 

* * *

 

One day was a squabble. Two days was a fight.

Four days?

Four days was a record.

Bokuto stares at the job board, debating on what job he should take that would give him enough souls and money to hold him over for a few days. His eyes are more tired than usual. The constant stress of not having his Meister around getting to him. He figures Akaashi should have come around by now to apologize and talk things over. He's perplexed that he's been holding out this long.

He's also beginning to grow worried.

As he reaches for a job he's settled on, out of the corner of his eye, he sees his Meister holding a job token out to a shorter teen, who looks flustered as they take it from him.

Bokuto's heart drops into his stomach when he remembers vaguely that this teen Akaashi is helping happens to be a weapon.

_Urgh, what's his problem?!_ Bokuto thinks,  _he's the dense one! It's his fault! So why hasn't he apologized?!_ The blood in his veins boils and sends his mind frantically running to every worst case scenario. His hand shatters the job plank in his hands and pushes splinters into his skin. 

“Oi!” Bokuto roars, marching forward and yanking Akaashi by his shirt collar. The teen he just helped hops backwards, terrified by the intimidating presence of one of the rare young death scythes. “What's your problem, huh?! Think you can just drop and change weapons when you want to? I've got news for you!”

Akaashi doesn't resist or struggle, instead, he's rather calm with his arms limp by his sides. “I thought you weren't my weapon anymore?”

“Like hell!” Bokuto snaps, his fists shaking between the rumpled fabric of Akaashi's shirt. “Why are you so damn oblivious, huh?! You're the worst partner, you know? You always leave me alone, you won't even live with me! It's like you don't care about me at all!”

Akaashi blinks a few times, a smile daring to tug at his lips right now. “Do you want to live with me that badly?” He asks, struggling to keep his composure with Bokuto's flustered and angry expression beaming right at him.

“ _YES!”_ the taller teen hollers. It's a great thing that neither of them really feel embarrassment at the smallest things, or the hallway full of stares would make this situation a lot harder and a lot more awkward. Akaashi gently places his hands on top of his weapon's and pries them loose of his now wrinkled shirt.

“Why didn't you just ask me, then?”

“I di-d...!” Bokuto chews on his lip. He never actually asked, did he? He just playfully pranced around the idea or tactlessly demanded it. Akaashi watches him struggle internally with his own simpleminded argument, and he clenches his teeth together to keep from letting loose the mirth that vibrates in his torso.

“Okay fine, so I never _asked_ , but that doesn't excuse you from ignoring me!”

“No, I'm sorry about that. I hadn't realized you were lonely because of me,” Akaashi smoothes his hands across the wrinkles on his shirt. “What's your deal?” Bokuto grumbles.

“I've been taking extra classes to perfect being your Meister. It makes us eligible for more jobs, and puts less strain on you as a weapon,” Akaashi nods, fingering through his hair that's in slight disarray. Bokuto only just notices the bags beneath his Meister's eyes and the messy hair he keeps trying to tousle.

He's tired. Living so much further from campus than Bokuto makes for a late walk home and an early rise. Bokuto's jaw drops when Akaashi bashfully looks down at his shoes. “I didn't want to lose to you, otherwise...why keep me as a Meister?”

“Akaashi...” Bokuto mutters, guilt raking at his insides. This whole time his Meister was worried about _him_ leaving?

“I really didn't mean to make you lonely, Bokuto-san.”

“No...I was being childish,” Bokuto shifts his weight to his opposite foot, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm sorry,” he hangs his head in genuine apology. It's bitter on his tongue. How could he have doubted his Meister so much?

“It was sort of fun, watching you squirm,” Akaashi admits, much to Bokuto's despair. “Wha—why—you knew?!”

“Somewhat...you're cute when you pout,” Akaashi cracks one of his rare smiles, the one that Bokuto sees the most, the one that lights up his whole face with amusement and sets loose a band of butterflies in his weapon's belly. Bokuto drops his head onto his shoulder, the heat in his cheeks radiating through Akaashi's shirt. “You really are the worst. I thought you'd actually leave me!”

“No, there's only you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi hums, chuckling softly when Bokuto's arms wrap about him like a vice.

“Hey, I'll take those classes with you,” Bokuto mutters, “if...you'll move in with me?” He phrases it as a question the best he can, though it lacks every ounce of finesse in all senses of the word. But Akaashi only smiles again nods his head. “Alright, deal.”

Bokuto pulls back and takes Akaashi by the shoulders again, a wide grin on his face. “Yeah yeah! Alright! Should we get your stuff and make a spare key?!”

“One step at a time. I should probably tell the renters I'm going to move out,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto nods, grabbing the teen by his hand and heading for the exit of the school. “Okay okay, we'll do that first!” He wraps an arm around his Meister and grins brightly at him. Akaashi sighs with relief, knowing he and his weapon are as strong as ever.

“Say, Akaashi, you're the only one for me too,” Bokuto says, his thumb moving in circles along Akaashi's shoulder, a knuckle smoothing over the bridge of his nose shyly. He laughs a big, hearty laugh, and tightens his hold on his Meister. “You're more important than anything, ya know? You're not _just_ my Meister!”

Bokuto sees the reaction Akaashi gives him, and a mix of embarrassment and an overabundance of joy rushes through his veins when his Meister does the one thing he's never seen him do. Akaashi claps a hand over his face to cover the deep scarlet that's bloomed across his face and neck, lowering his head into Bokuto's shoulder. “You're really cute when you blush, ya know?”

“Shut it...I thought it was just me,” Akaashi breathes. His weapon gives him a sneaky chortle as they descend the staircase back home. “We really gotta get better at this talking thing.”

“Agreed,” Akaashi mutters, and Bokuto laces their fingers together, his cheery voice going on and on about how excited he is to start taking jobs again. Akaashi can't bring himself to lift his head the whole way home, mostly because the second he looks at his Weapon's beaming smile and brilliant golden eyes, he breaks into a mess of crooked grins and crimson shaded skin. What an unconventional and sloppy confession, but Akaashi wouldn't have had it any other way.

Bokuto truly is the only weapon for him.

 

* * *

 

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks, padding through the apartment to find his Weapon. “Hey hey! I'm in here!” Bokuto peers around from his bedroom, a grin ready for his Meister. His cheeky smile drops off of his face when Akaashi looks dangerously annoyed.

“Why is my bedroom _not_ a bedroom?” Akaashi gestures to the room that is supposed to be his bedroom, but it's set up as though it could be a lounge space more so than a personal sleep space.

“Oh, I just sort of figured you'd share my room, y'know? Since we're together and all now.”

Silence dwells in the room for a few moments. Bokuto and Akaashi share a confused staring contest before the both of them break into a rose colored fluster and peel their eyes away from each other and to the nearest object in the room. “Was I wrong?”

“Maybe I'll just move back,” Akaashi heads for the door, albeit jokingly, but he wonders if he can handle Bokuto's extremely blunt advances.

Bokuto makes an incredible leap at the teen, arms wrapping about him tight. “Wait wait! I'm kidding! I'll fix it! Just stay!”

Akaashi glances back at the dual haired weapon, seeing him lightly pout with his head rested on Akaashi's shoulder. “You weren't kidding, were you, Bokuto-san?”

“Sort of...I mean...mostly... maybe a little...”

The Meister wipes a hand over his face to calm his nerves. He's truly weak to Bokuto's pout sometimes.

“It wouldn't be that bad, I suppose, on occasion,” he proposes, watching Bokuto's eyes shimmer. “Yeah yeah! Sometimes! Like every other day or something!”

Bokuto releases him and heads for his bedroom to return it to normal. “Akaashi, you get to make dinner tonight!”

Akaashi heaves a sigh and walks after his Meister, going to help him fix the room. He's one hundred percent about it now; there really isn't any other weapon he would rather be with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I really like Bokuaka it's one of my top OTP's. Yes, they ARE together in this fic! And YES, Bokuto is a Death Scythe. I'll expand on their story in later chapters hehe. Let me know what you guys liked, what you'd like to see, etc!
> 
> Reach me on my tumblr [Tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/manamiin_)!
> 
> Up next: Iwaizumi & Oikawa


	4. In Which Oikawa is Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa prided himself on never having to ask for help. Until he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, here's the next chapter!
> 
> Just a little heads up: There's a slight blood mention in this fic. I didn't make it too graphic to it would be safe for audiences, but just in case anyone needs to know!

“How's your arm?”

Iwaizumi rotates his shoulder, stretching his arm outward and then across his body to demonstrate his movement capacity. “S'fine, back to normal,” He answers, flashing a look to his Meister that's perched in a chair against the wall.

The nurse slides her chair forward and hands him a sheet of paper with an arrangement of workout suggestions and their repetitions. “Use this to rebuild your core strength. Amazingly, you're one of the fastest healing weapons I've had to deal with, but keep this in case you feel short of your original power level.”

Iwaizumi nods slowly, folding the regimen into his back pocket. “So are we done here?” he asks, biting his lip when he realizes he might have come across curt. Before the nurse can answer, she's cut off by Oikawa's sudden and sharp lift from his seat.

“Ah...Oikawa-kun?” The nurse politely waits for him speak.

“How long?” He asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long until we can take jobs again?”

The question hangs in the air for a few moments, though it seems a lot longer than a couple seconds of breathing. Iwaizumi's scowl softens, and a sympathetic smile takes over the nurse's lips. “He's a fast healer, Oikawa-kun. You both can resume jobs inside of two weeks. Depending on how you feel, Iwaizumi-kun,” she scribbles down a note and rips it from her pad, handing it to the weapon before her.

“This is an excuse note for your agility course,” she goes to offer it to Iwaizumi, and although he was pretty set on turning it down, the anguished look Oikawa carries beneath his bangs makes him begrudgingly take the note with a small thank you.

The nurse sends Iwaizumi a wink of reassurance before ushering them both out of her office and back into the hallway. The heavy clunk of her door shutting echoes into the corridor, greatly intensifying the awkward silence that's fallen over the two.

Iwaizumi steals a glance at his partner, hoping they'd make eye contact and end this dreadful quiet, but Oikawa's head hasn't lifted above his shoulders since this morning. Their conversations have been limited to Oikawa giving half assed “ _yes_ ” or “ _sure”_ and maybe a couple of unintelligible grunts; but nothing close to an actual sentence.

Oikawa is never _this_ silent unless something truly terrible happened.

* * *

 

It happened four weeks ago.

Oikawa's obsession with being the ultimate Meister and surpassing the well renowned weapon Ushijima often drove him to make rash decisions now and again, whenever he began to feel like he was invincible.

“ _Come on, Iwa-chan, we can handle this!”_

Oikawa begged and pleaded, using every puppy dog look and cute trick to get Iwaizumi to cave. Even though every nerve in his body sensed it wasn't a good idea, he couldn't deny Oikawa this shot at making him into a death scythe.

They went in with confidence. Oikawa had it all planned out in his head; they'd finish this job, and then Iwaizumi would be a deaths scythe, and he'd finally reach the number one position over Ushijima. Iwaizumi had to admit, being so close to the ultimate upgrade tasted irresistibly sweet. Oikawa's excitement began to rub off on him, and suddenly this mission was a fantastic idea.

She was stronger than the thought.

Faster, too.

Oikawa was known for his speed, but this witch was too much.

“ _Don't lose focus, idiot! You're slowing down! Concentrate!”_

Iwaizumi screamed and hollered, but to no avail. Oikawa had broken all traces of focus. The overwhelming aura of the witch's soul pierced him full of fear. He couldn't run, he couldn't swing. His wave length erratically spiraled away from matching Iwaizumi's. The scythe began to feel like an anvil in his hands.

“ _Oikawa!!!”_

Oikawa couldn't hear his weapon. Everything was silenced by the roaring of wind in his ears as his opponent powered up before him. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the deep, ferocious gaze of the witch, feeling like prey backed into a corner. His knees quivered, his eyes watered, his mind went blank.

“ _Iwa-chan,”_ he muttered against the cold metal of Iwaizumi's staff, _“I'm scared...!”_ he squeaked, unable to pull himself from the ground and dodge the incoming attack. His voice sounded apologetic, full of regret and shame. He'd given up.

It happened in an instant, between the screech of the witch and a flash of light. A scream burst from Oikawa's lips, his body jolting backwards from the raw thrust of force. He noticed too late that his hands were void of his weapon.

“ _I-Iwa-chan...?”_ Oikawa looked up, his weapon hunched over him with his hands dug into the gravel and his teeth clenched together. _“Idiot...!”_ Iwaizumi coughed deep from his abdomen, trails of deep red streaming from his temple and mouth. Even through his injuries, he still managed to hold himself protectively over his Meister.

“ _What are you doing?!”_ Oikawa became frantic, his eyes wide with horror that his weapon looked in such poor condition.

“ _A weapon always protects his Meister! Now do me a favor, Assikawa. Get some air in your lungs and get us out of here,”_ Iwaizumi smiled as he said it, before he collapsed above Tooru, his arms giving out from beneath him.

Panicked, Oikawa tried to jerk Iwaizumi back to consciousness. _“Iwa-chan! Hey, Iwa-chan! Wake up! Please!”_

His eyes landed on the Witch, who was stunned but slowly recovering, preparing to come after them again.

He hoisted Iwaizumi onto his back and made a break for it, expelling as much power as he could to create a wide enough gap.

By some miracle, he managed to get the both of them to safety. Oikawa found a window as soon as possible and scrawled the numbers to dial Lord Death. He was bitter—he'd never had to dial this number before—but right now he didn't care. As soon as he got a reply through the reflection, he begged and pleaded through choked sobs and shaky breaths to be rescued.

At first, while Iwaizumi was bedridden in the infirmary, Oikawa feigned his composure. He tended to Iwaizumi almost as closely as the nurse did. The weapon tried to convince Oikawa that he shouldn't take it hard, and that everyone at some point failed, but he gave it a rest when Oikawa forcefully changed subjects with a bitterness in his smile that forced Iwaizumi into submission.

As the weeks passed, Oikawa's demeanor crumbled. His smiles were weak if they even existed, his motivation diminished; he refused to let Iwaizumi take on his weapon form even for a light wavelength practice.

“ _Oikawa I'm fine. We're not even—”_

“ _I said I don't feel like it, Iwa-chan.”_

Iwaizumi stopped asking after his fourth rejection.

* * *

 

Four weeks later, and here they are in the silent hallway, Oikawa with a gloomy aura hung around him and Iwaizumi with a lack of an earth shattering comment on his lips.

“Hey...Oikawa—”

“Iwa-chan, please don't ask me to train again,” Oikawa snaps, his tone serious, dangerous even.

Iwaizumi had no intention of asking, but when he sees the look of _that's it, I quit_ written in Oikawa's eyes, he snags the teen by the lapels of his jacket and slams him to the nearest wall. “Are you just going to mope forever? Where do you get off, sulking for this long, huh?! I told you, this isn't your—!!”

“Yes, it is. It is my fault. I almost lost you out there, Iwa-chan. I can't do something like that again,” His voice shakes with the familiar fear of every nightmare he's had reliving the moment he almost lost Iwaizumi between his own fingers. “Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?!”

“You're the one that's hellbent on surpassing Ushijima, aren't you?!”

“ _Not at the cost of your life!”_ Oikawa shouts, his voice straining and crackling on the hard syllables that bounce around the hallway. Oikawa rarely shouts. He can get loud, but he rarely ever bellows like his life depends on it.

“You're not _just_ a weapon, Iwa-chan. You're my best friend. You're...you're my everything, alright? I don't care if Ushijima surpasses me. It won't mean anything if you're not there,” Oikawa hangs his head, his fingers crushing tight around his bangs in frustration.

For Oikawa to even breathe those words means he was truly terrified. Iwaizumi hadn't realized the damage inflicted on his Meister, and since he was always in high spirits, this was unusual. Most slumps for Tooru were because he wasn't perfect, and it drove him mad that he wasn't the best. Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was afraid of being outshone; he never thought Oikawa could ever be scared to fight. Iwaizumi never thought Oikawa would be scared for his sake.

He watches Tooru's frantically search for something to distract the bleariness in his eyes. “Hey...I get it, okay?” He murmurs, and leans his forward, resting his head on his Oikawa's shoulder.

“ _Put yourself in my shoes for once!”_

Iwaizumi softly chuckles, so faint Oikawa doesn't notice. He can't imagine losing him, the very thought of it makes his chest tight and his mouth sour.

If this is even a fraction of what Oikawa feels, then he has every reason to apologize.

But Iwaizumi has never been good with saying those two words. They always come out garbled or half-assed, even if the intention is with good spirits.

“If you're gonna cry, then get it over with.”

“I don't want to,” Oikawa shivers, but a tear drop hits Iwaizumi's neck.

“I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, alright? Take your time.”

“You're being so nice... I must look pretty pathetic,” Oikawa mutters.

“I think we both are, so let's just leave it like this for a while. We can take a break from jobs. Take your time, Tooru.”

That does it. Fingertips dig into Iwaizumi's back like he's a lifeline. Oikawa doesn't care that the hallways echo. He doesn't care that he sounds like a blubbering five year old.

“ _Iwa-chan...! Iwa-chan!”_

Somehow they ended up with Iwaizumi slumped against the wall and the floor, and Oikawa pressed between his legs, leaning against him. Though his Meister was taller, he seemed small in this position, frail even. Hajime isn't sure how much time has passed, but he doesn't bother to check. He rests his head against the wall and cards his fingers through Oikawa's locks, the tingle sending light tremors down Tooru's spine.

Oikawa is silent, eyes open and fixated on nothing but blank space, the calm rhythm of Iwaizumi's heartbeat like a soothing mantra that ebbs the tension in his muscles. “Iwa-chan?” He asks after a long while, his voice soft, gentle, innocent.

“Yeah?”

“I'm still...I'll still make you a death scythe. Just...not right away, okay?”

Iwaizumi smirks, his thumb smoothing circles into the concave of Oikawa's shoulder blade. “I”m not in a hurry.”

“Say something nice,” Oikawa demands, and it puzzles his weapon for a few seconds. At least his childish behavior has somewhat returned, but Iwaizumi rarely says nice things.

Oh.

“Listen up, I'm only gonna say this once,” Iwaizumi leans over, pulls Oikawa's hair back from his ear, and whispers to his Meister.

His choice of words send the world to a standstill; the remnants of sunlight warming Oikawa's skin turn to fire, his cheeks flushing a deep carmine. The feel of Iwaizumi's hands on his back loosen every muscle to liquid and every nerve comes to life like fireworks. Through crystalline tears and the bittersweet taste of melancholy still on his tongue, Oikawa clings to his weapon, his lips pulling into a pearly white grin that glimmers against the setting sun.

“Say it again,” Oikawa pleads.

“Like hell,” Iwaizumi retorts, and Oikawa feels a light weight press onto his head.

They stay like that until the sun goes down, silent, calm, together, alive. Iwaizumi feels Oikawa drift off into a light sleep, probably the best he's had in a month.

He realizes in that instance, that he would trade all the souls in the world if it meant he got to stay with his Meister. He tousles Tooru's hair with sleep heavy on his eyelids, content with sitting right here in the silent stillness of the hallway with Oikawa tucked against him.

“I'm not going anywhere, I promise,” he mumbles, pressing his lips against the top of Tooru's head. He too drifts into a gentle sleep. He'll worry about being caught later, but right now, he just wants to stay like this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, my heart wrenches for Iwaoi and I can't help but want to destroy myself over them. There will be happier, lighter chapters with them I swear to you. Oh, YES, Iwaizumi is an actual Scythe. Traditional to the word.
> 
> But I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments & Kudos are so appreciated!
> 
> Remember to tag #soulhq on tumblr if you want me to see anything! ^-^
> 
> Reach me on my tumblr [Tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/manamiin_)!
> 
> Next Time: Kageyama & Hinata (FINALLY THE MAIN DUO I KNOW)

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, Comments, Concerns?
> 
> Reach me on my tumblr [Tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/manamiin_)!


End file.
